Unexpected But Needed
by yellowvalley
Summary: AU- Starts not long after Civil War but Peter was not a part of it. Tony unexpectedly finds out that he has a son that not only did Obie keep from him, but also tried to kill. He's not sure what to do, but knows that the best thing he can do is make sure the kid is safe, but from a distance, and leave him alone. But first he has to find him.
1. Chapter 1

The blaring music in the workshop cut out. "Boss, I think there is something you should read," Friday told him.

Tony groaned. She'd been bringing him tidbits for the past hour or so, and they were always slightly to grossly horrifying. Stark Industries had suffered a cyber attack recently, and as such were re-vamping their system. In that process, he had Friday scan for any issues, and she had found an old cache of files from Obie. He had his hands in more pies than previously thought, but luckily hadn't gotten much started before Tony came back and ruined his plans. Which is good, as those plans would have done untold damage to innocents around the world while Obie got rich.

Tony put down the tools he had in his hands, and brought up the waiting file. "What is it now?"

"I've found an old secure email he used, and while most of it is out of date information, compiled with a few documents in the cache, it has some very alarming information. It appears that about 14 years ago, he received a call asking to reach you pertaining to a possible child of yours," she explained.

Tony rolled his eyes. "That's not exactly rare, Friday. I've had a lot of paternity suits, at least from that time frame. Usually it's the lawyers that handled it, but it's not surprising that one or two got through to Obie."

"That's not what's concerning, boss. He did do what is always done in that case, and investigated. The woman that had contacted him, a Mary Parker, had indeed met with you and likely spent the weekend with you in the right time frame. You were both at a conference in Boston. Rarely does the time frame match up. He then asked for a paternity test from the mother when the baby was born, which she declined, stating that the boy would be happily raised by his stepfather but that she wanted you to know about him. She seemed to be fine with no further contact."

Furrowing his brow, Tony said "Then why is this concerning? Sounds like she made it up and then was caught out. I certainly don't remember a Mary Parker." He picked up his tools, ready to dismiss the whole issue.

"It seems Obie nearly dismissed it as well. But I have uncovered a paternity test a couple months later that Obie had downloaded. It lists Child Parker and you, boss. It's a match."

Tony burst out an incredulous laugh, but brought up the test in hologram. "I've only twice taken a paternity test, both negative, Friday. I don't know what this is, but it can't be real. Maybe he had one forged in a bid to get the company from me? The whole assassination thing was his last resort, after all."

Friday was starting to sound testy. "Boss. Right after he downloaded the file, his phone records show he contacted a Fredrick Townsend. In an attempt to be thorough, I researched him and found him to be a for hire criminal. I found several payments from one of Obie's offshore accounts to his. After tracing the dates and looking further into phone calls and emails, I found that one payment was followed by a plane ticket from L.A. to New York City, where the Parkers lived, two days before the sample from the child was entered into the lab's systems. He flew back out the next day after an email that stated the job was done and to contact him for any further needs.

Further more, Obie responded to the email that he may need him further when the results were back. I believe they were corresponding about the test. After the date of the results, there were occasional payments to Townsend followed by trips to New York, which appear to have been to check in on the family. There were also hacking attempts from a hacker used often by Obie to go through the family's information every few months."

His stomach suddenly doing something funny, Tony slowly read through the results of the test. It looked legit enough. He just didn't understand what all this meant. Why would Obie, if he believed this to be true, keep this from him?

Then again, maybe Obie was concerned about how it might change him? Obie had been happy enough to allow the immature Tony to sideline himself in the early years by partying and isolating himself in the parts of the job he liked, and passing the parts he didn't like to Obie. He had made deals pretty openly, to Tony's shame, that were questionable and solidified Obie's position without Tony even caring.

Since finding the cache though, Tony was alarmed to find that Obie had always planned for when Tony to become too much of a liability. He kept people on retainer that watched Tony, encouraged his bad and irresponsible behavior, and even, according to a few emails, had reached out to known hitmen a time or two just in case. Tony doubted, honestly, that knowing he maybe had a kid out there would have changed him then, but Obie would have needed to be sure. And even then, Tony would suddenly have an heir, and Obie would be stuck as second again.

"Okay, but wait. Did he pay the mother off then? Why didn't I hear about it when the test came back positive? Even if Obie didn't come forward..." Tony was trying really hard to focus on the trail of clues, but it was starting to become harder, his brain desperately denying what was slowly coming into focus. That at least Obie had thought he had a kid out there. He grabbed for his coffee cup to take a drink out of habit, and realized he was starting to shake.

"I show no payments to Mary and Richard Parker. Unknown whether they even knew that the test had been done, and they appear not to have known they were watched. But boss…" Friday hesitated. She never hesitated, Tony thought. While she was slowly evolving and learning to mimic some human characteristics, she was still blunt and not afraid to pass things on that would upset him. He cringed, and braced, not being able to bring himself to look at the new documents now in front of him.

"Mary Parker did, once again years later, email the company trying to reach you, which Obie intercepted. The boy was 6 years old at the time, and she believed he was beginning to exhibit traits and intelligence that indicated he was your child. She again reiterated that she wanted nothing from you but just wanted you to know. Obie, the same day, contacted Townsend over the phone, who flew out to New York. Mary and Richard Parker died the following week in a plane crash attributed to engine failure. There was a significant payment to Townsend's account after this, more than any previous payment."

He knew it was going to be bad, but Jesus Christ! Tony finally glanced through the crash report, phone and bank documents, where Friday had helpfully highlighted the pertinent parts. He felt nauseous, and lightheaded. A big part of him still felt like he was just reading too much into this. That there was some other explanation. As he absent mindedly swiped through the last of the bank documents, the next thing that came up froze him in his seat.

It was a picture of a small, shaggy haired boy, attached to Mary Parker's email. The kid was pale, and skinny, but had a megawatt smile and bright eyes. He recognized those eyes. They stared back from the mirror every day. He recognized that smile, his mother smiled like that the few times she had been truly happy spending time with him.

"Boss, Peter Parker was meant to be with them on that flight, but got sick and was left behind with his Aunt and Uncle last minute. Obie meant to kill him as well."

Tony snapped the hologram off and put his face in his hands. He was worried that maybe he might start to panic, but felt strangely disconnected. Holy shit, Obie. What the fuck.

Holy shit. He may have a kid out there.

Christ.

"Okay, Okay. Alright. But he's still alive, somewhere?" He may have felt disconnected, but his voice came out much less steady than normal.

"Yes. After the plane crash, it appears Townsend sent an email asking if Obie wanted him to return to New York and 'finish it'. Obie sends back that it might appear suspicious, and they would wait a couple years. That it appears the only ones who knew of Peter's true paternity were his parents, now deceased. He does say that he would be needing Townsend again for this problem in a few years though, that it couldn't be left to 'grow' just in case."

Tony absently nodded. "Only a couple years later, the kidnapping and Iron Man happened, and they never got a chance. Fuck." Tony got up to pace. The disconnected feeling was fading, and he needed to get rid of some of the nervous energy that was starting in his chest.

He didn't want to know. He didn't want any part of it. He felt horrible for it, but he wished Friday had never uncovered any of this. He doesn't want a kid, never has. But it was Okay, he figured. The kids parents had been dead for almost a decade now. He didn't know what had happened, and wasn't responsible for fixing it. There was no fixing that. The kid landed somewhere safe, he was sure. It was a long time ago. He was fine, better off than if Tony had stepped in anyway. Lord knows he wouldn't have actually stepped up.

No, he had to know. "Fri, where's the kid now? He was taken in by family, right? Happy now? No need or want of me?" Damn it, he was practically pleading with her. He wasn't sure what emotion he was feeling, but he needed two things from her- to absolve him of this weird guilt in his heart about the kid being safe, and to have no need to do anything more than forget this past 15 minutes ever happened.

"Ben and May Parker did indeed keep him when informed of his parent's passing." Tony nodded. Good. Kids' safe, no need to do anything. Maybe he'd anonymously start a college fund or something. Yeah. That's the extent he'll be involved- better for everybody that way. He probably calls them Mom and Dad now. Yeah.

"But Boss, about nine months ago, they were killed in a mugging. Peter Parker, having no family left, was put into foster care. He was reported as a runaway from his third home two months ago and hasn't been seen since."

Well, shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was hungry.

It's something you think he'd be used to- he hasn't had the opportunity to eat his fill in at least a month. But it's an achy feeling, gnawing, always present.

Just like the cold.

It wasn't really cold out, but he's lost a lot of weight. Peter guesses the lack of calories to burn gives him less ability to maintain his body temperature, even in August. He's not looking forward to fall.

He has serious doubts about being able to survive winter out here.

Peter feels horrible, but when he's huddled up on the roof of some building late at night, wrapped up in a couple blankets he's found, hunched in over his stomach in an attempt to lessen the hunger pains,that's when he misses Ben and May the most. He feels like he's being so selfish- their lives cut so short in a tragedy, and he misses them because they fed him, and clothed him, and hugged him when he needed it.

Ben always had a thing about self pity- "You never have it as bad as someone else does," he'd say. He often took Peter out when he volunteered- at soup kitchens, at homeless shelters- to drive that point home. Peter's trying really hard to keep that in mind right now. He's got super powers. He can climb buildings to sleep on roofs instead of doorways or park benches. He can fight off attackers without issue.

But despite all that, he's drowning in misery.

Peter knows he can go back to the system. He'd at least have a shot to be fed regularly. Have a bed to sleep in. Take showers regularly.

The cost of that though- he just can't.

His first time in foster care had been right after his parents had died. He knew Ben wanted to take him in right away but May had been a little hesitant- she had never really wanted kids. So he spent a few weeks in a foster care home while they "sorted the paperwork". It had been terrifying- they were kind, but had so many foster kids, and he was in shock so he was withdrawn as it is- he guesses that's why Skip had targeted him.

Skip was the couple's only biological child. He had a tendency to sneak into the smaller boy's room. The first few times he just said he wanted to sleep with him so that he wouldn't be alone- but each night there was more and more touching. He told Mr. Westcott he wanted to sleep alone but Skip said that Peter was having nightmares and he was just making sure he was O.K. Mr. Westcott believed Skip, and Skip made sure to tell Peter he would never be believed. Thankfully, he was soon taken for a visitation with Ben and May, and while he didn't get up the courage to come out and say it until months later, they knew something had happened from the way he pleaded to go live with them and took custody of him the very next day.

May had always felt horrible about hesitating, and made sure from then on to remind him he was loved and wanted. What he wouldn't give to have that now.

And this time, when they put him in two homes in a row that were abusive- the first mental and emotional and the last physical- he gave up and ran away. He wasn't waiting for something

to happen-again. His caseworker had believed him- but there was never proof. The adults all said he was the one causing trouble and lying when he came forward, and ask that he be moved. The caseworker, her hands tied, was getting a little exasperated, even if she tried not to show it. Peter knew there wasn't a lot of homes, but he wasn't trying to cause trouble- he was trying to protect himself, and the younger kids in the home with him. He knew the next step was a group home, where he knew the hard core teens were that would cause problems for him. Where if he goofed up, he may be faced with Juvie. Where he'd be severely limited in his free time and ability to move around, and watched so closely.

He wouldn't be able to do what he needed to do from that place. Things like this:

Peter jumped from the fire escape to the alley below, then careened around a corner to where he heard the yelling. He found three guys cornering another, threatening him with knives. The guy that was cornered had what looked like a piece of wood, trying to keep them away from him.

Peter quickly grabbed the closest guy and threw him towards the street. He was able to also toss one other guy into the wall before he was even noticed. The third had time to turn towards him, and quickly but sloppily take a swipe at him with the knife. Peter dodged, and punched him in the nose, causing the guy to yell and immediately double over, covering his face. Peter then just pushed him over to the ground.

He felt a chill up his spine. His danger sense that had developed with his powers had been on a low grade hum now for weeks, but it did get stronger when something was about to happen. He turned to the mugee to check and make sure he was okay, and was surprised to find him with the wood grasped over his head in an attack position, and barely had time to duck. The wood cut the air just to his left, though, and took the guy that was back up and trying to sneak behind him back to the ground again.

Peter was impressed. Normally, the people he'd help would either be running away already, with no concern to the person that just saved them, or just staring numbly in shock.

"Dude," he said in awe, and held out his fist to the guy.

The man, still white in his young face and breathing hard, just stared at his fist for a second before slowly fist bumping him.

"You got a phone to call this in?" Peter asked, noting that the first guy he'd thrown was long gone.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, thanks man. I've heard about you, didn't expect to ever meet you in person," The young man said, already dialing.

"No problem," Peter replied nonchalantly, even as on the inside he was getting that rush he always got after saving someone. "Glad I came by at the right time."

He turned to leave, but suddenly found that the rush of adrenaline high was already leaving him, and he found himself dizzy and swaying to the right a bit.

"Woah," the young man exclaimed, putting a hand out to steady Peter. "You okay? Did they hit you or something?"

Peter shrugged him off and shook his head to clear it. "Adrenaline crash- it's a real thing, man. No worries. Be safe!" He knew he needed to get out of there before the police came. These dizzy spells were happening more and more often after a fight or a rescue, and he knew he'd be fine if he just sat and rested for a second. So Peter waved to the guy once again, and made his way back into the alley.

The webs would come in handy right about now, Peter thought. He hadn't had webs in over a month- he no longer had access to his school's chemistry room and therefore ran out of the stash he had with no ability to make more. He was left with just his physical powers, but he was well aware that with the lack of food and rest, he was burning reserves he just didn't have.

Sighing, Peter scaled up to the first landing and climbed on, slowly making his way to the roof of the building. He'd rest here, at least until the cops finally made it, to make sure the guy below didn't run into any more problems, and to recover from the dizzy spell.

He desperately needed food, he knew. Even with Ben and May, he wasn't eating what he knew his body needed. Both because they'd figure something was up, and food was just so expensive. Now on the streets things were even more dire. He went to the soup kitchens a few times early on, but on top of them being suspicious just because of his age, several volunteers there knew him by site from his visits with Ben. The last time he went he had to sneak out a window to avoid a social worker called on him.

He'd be in even more trouble without Mr. Delmar. He initially hired Peter on four days a week in the afternoons because he thought it was admirable that Peter wanted to help out at home. Peter knew he was growing suspicious though. Peter looked gaunt now, and often came in the same clothes over and over again. He was able to keep them clean as he was able to sneak in to the old apartment building and use the machines, even if he rarely had soap to use. He figured it was only a matter of time before Mr. Delmar decided it was time to just concernedly question him, and there would go the food he got to take from the deli bar at the end of his shift- stale breads, expired meats and cheeses, wilted lettuce. It was usually enough to make one meal a day, and it was the only thing keeping him going now.

He wondered idly how much loneliness and stress were plaguing his body as well. The hum of his danger sense hadn't stopped for weeks, an annoying thrum he knew was probably in a full feedback loop at this point. He was so scared of everything he was pretty sure it was just himself setting it off- worrying about being caught sleeping on a roof. About Mr. Delmar telling him he couldn't help him anymore. The cold in his bones, and how he would likely not survive if he was still sleeping outside this winter. How the only thing that made any sense, gave him a reason to go on, was Spider-Man. Helping people. How his body might not let him do that without getting himself killed pretty soon here.

The hum notched up a bit, and he looked around wildly for a second before he noticed his breath and heart rate had picked up- he was sending himself into a panic attack about how much he was panicking about things. He laughed at himself, but there was no real humor. He had just turned fifteen years old. How was he going to make it to eighteen, when he could make himself legit again?

He heard a commotion from down below and realized the cops had arrived and had things well in hand. Peter wearily climbed to his feet and planned his route back to where he had his stuff stashed. It would be so much easier with his webs, he thought. Jumping from roof to roof, climbing up the walls, just sucked more energy out of him. More life out of him.

"You never have it as bad as someone else does," He mumbled to himself tiredly, and made a running leap to the next roof.

Tony was annoyed. He was hitting roadblocks everywhere he turned in an attempt to find this kid. He'd been in the city for three weeks now, much longer than he thought it would take to track down a runaway kid. He talked to everybody he could think of. The social worker in charge had barely remembered any details about Peter- hadn't spent much time with him and couldn't give him any information that wasn't in the file about where he would go. Neighbors in the kid's old apartment building, along with the landlord, just reported that he had no friends to speak of- he was a book worm and nerd, they said. Spent more time at home than anywhere else. Teachers at his public school had nothing but praise for him- besides the pity about his circumstances, anyway- but said the same thing. He was so much smarter than the other kids, straight up gifted, that it caused Peter to be very isolated, even picked on sometimes.

Friday was continuously scanning the city's CCTV and any big security cameras in the area the kid had lived with his aunt and uncle, with no success. Tony had figured the kid would stick to the area he knew. It was like the kid had vanished. It was pissing Tony off- and making him genuinely start to worry. Had the progeny of the world's most famous billionaire die in the streets? Or was he now somewhere even Tony would never find him, suffering? Tony in his time had come across the kinds of people a street kid needed to fear- drug czars needing mules, sadistic violent offenders praying on easy targets, and the one that made him literally sick to his stomach to think about- child traffickers.

In a last ditch effort, and well aware it would bring attention to both himself and the kid, he contacted the police in an attempt to see what he could do next. The desk sergeant, knowing Tony Stark would not stand for the standard channels, forwarded him to a detective. The detective sat and talked with him a bit, gave him some good tips about checking some of the shelters and food kitchens in the area. He questioned Tony about why he was interested in a certain boy. Using the slight connection to Mary (that he still didn't remember) to his advantage Tony overstated their relationship, said that he had just learned about her son's circumstances and felt he owed it to her to check up on her son. He was nowhere near ready to admit to paternity of the kid.

He was sure he was still going to walk away from the kid once he got him safe and sound. It was better for the both of them. Poor kid had been through enough without being saddled with a bio dad popping up out of nowhere that was more of a mess than the kid was himself.

On that advice, he went with his school picture of Peter to homeless shelters and then food kitchens to see if he'd been around. That's where he began to finally gain some traction. The director of one of the shelters recognized him by name, and knew him as "Ben's kid". That was the extent of what the director knew, but he gave him the name of a woman who ran one of the smaller soup kitchens on the edge of Queens. Apparently Ben had volunteered there the most as it was near his work. Allison hadn't seen him in over a year, but heard one of the volunteers saying something about seeing Peter a few months ago. Allison had given him a name of that volunteer, a Charlie, and Friday did her magic and provided him with a number.

Charlie, it turns out, was a wealth of information. He was a former gang banger and drug addict, and was well versed in both the criminal and homeless element. Charlie told him he hadn't seen Peter recently, but agreed to meet Tony at a diner after he got off work to see if they could come up with something together.

"Peter always was a charming little thing," Charlie was saying fondly, stirring sugar into his coffee. "Ridiculously smart, you can tell as soon as you meet him. But so friendly! I'm a big guy, all tatted up, and I intimidate a lot of people that come into the shelter. Peter sidled right up to me though! It actually concerned me a bit- sometimes people aren't right in the head, the ones that come into the shelters and kitchens- but he always seemed to know how to talk to people and disarm them quickly. Damn shame about his Uncle- good man, good kid. Shame."

Tony smiled, Charlie was obvious in his fondness for Peter. Peter sounded like a good kid, and he was weirdly proud despite him having no impact on Peter's life to this point, and not wanting one going forward. He was also impatient. "When did you see him last?"

Charlie sighed. "I goofed up on that one. I had heard he came into the kitchen a few times before I saw him myself. It had been a few months since Ben's death, I just figured maybe he'd came to be close to Ben? It's tough, being thrown into the system like that." Charlie frowned. "Then he came when I was there. He looked so sad, had obviously lost weight. I sat and talked with him a bit. He said he was in a foster home but just needed to get away sometimes. I bought it, and told him he could come around anytime. And he did a few times, and we talked. I tried to get him to tell me what was up with him, but he just wanted to talk superficial stuff, and I got that. Sometimes you just need an escape.

But the last time he came in, he wasn't right. His clothes were dirty, and he looked like death warmed over. I finally had to admit that the kids was likely a runaway even if he wouldn't admit it, and wasn't doing a bang up job of looking after himself. I called a social worker that volunteered a few times a month, and she agreed to take a look at his file and see what was up. I told Peter that we could use his help at the next lunchtime, so I knew he'd show up."

Charlie laughed, a big belly laugh that had the others in the small diner looking at their table. "Kid showed up, alright. And so did his social worker. I swear, he was next to me in the kitchen one minute, and gone the next. And there's no back door that way! I still don't know how he got out without going past either me or the social worker. The windows are way too high for a short fry like Peter to climb out of." Charlie shrugged. "I didn't mean to catch him out like that- I was hoping I'd get to have a talk with him once I knew his circumstances better, and maybe take him in to his social worker myself. But I guess the social worker got a little impatient. Haven't seen him since."

Tony nodded. He wasn't a fan of the social worker, as she seemed dismissive of Peter at first. Eventually, she admitted her caseload was so heavy that she was working twelve to fourteen hours a day on the kids she could get her hands on, much less the ones that had ran. She really did try to give him something to help him search, but there was nothing.

"Do you have any idea of where he could be now?" Tony asked.

"No, not really. I'll go down over the next couple days and ask around some of the places the runaway kids frequent. See if anyone has seen him. I don't hold out much hope for that though. Kid like Peter, he'd be eaten alive in an atmosphere like that." Charlie turned the waitress away when she offered to refill the coffee. He looked at his watch, then back up at Tony. "Not somewhere you'd be safe going either, Iron Man or not," He said with a smirk. "I've got to get to my second job now, but I'll go soon."

Tony huffed at the delay, but thought he'd make more waves than he wanted at this point trying to do that himself anyway. "Alright, thanks. Just call this number," he said, handing over a card with one of Friday's numbers on it. "It goes to my personal assistant, she can get you in touch with me if you find anything."

Charlie nodded, and stood. "Good luck, man. I really hope you can help him. Like I said, a really smart charming kid." They shook hands, and Charlie made his way towards the door.

Tony abruptly realized he had exhausted everything he could think of that he could do to find the kid. He hated not having anything to do.

"Charlie, is there anything else you think I can do over the next few days to try and find him?"

Charlie turned, and thought for a second. "Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you find that one superhero guy that hangs out in Queens, see if he's seen him. That's right up your alley, right?"

Tony had no idea who he was talking about. "Superhero guy?"

Charlie grinned. "Yeah, cool dude. Helps people out all the time, could have possibly came across a homeless kid in a bind. Lame name though. He goes by Spider-man."


	3. Chapter 3

Peter was feeling even more run down than usual. The streets had been quiet the past week; the weather had been rainy and cold and bad guys tended to hunker down. He was able to stay dry if he stayed in his current little cubby on the roof of the Smeltzer building, but he's always too much in his head if he stays there for too long. But still, he'd stayed put as much as he could. He doesn't think he could get sick at any dangerous level anymore, at least not normally. But it did sap his energy even more, having to try to stay warm while wet, so it was a bad idea to tempt fate.

There were also people out looking for him. He heard through one of the runaway kids that the social worker had stepped up her game looking for him, and Charlie was asking to make contact as well. Peter felt bad, he liked Charlie, but the last time Charlie had almost got him caught. He had no idea why Charlie waited until now to really put his name through the grapevine, but Peter thought that besides Delmar's he was safer to stay off the streets if he wasn't in his mask.

Luckily, this afternoon was the first dry spell the city had in the past week, so he made it to Delmar's without being soaked through. He nodded to Carlos behind the counter, and went to the back to get his apron and start working. The job wasn't hard at all- he just spent the rush hours washing some of the dishes, sweeping and mopping, putting all of the ingredients out when Carlos ran low, and some stocking. Both Carlos and Mr. Delmar were awesome to work around, and Peter enjoyed the time to be semi-normal. He was so thankful Mr. Delmar was willing to hire him under the table- he'd get a bit of cash and some leftover food for two or three hours of work.

Half way through his three hour shift, while he's in the back deciding what to stock next, he hears Mr. Delmar coming back into the stock room. He leans against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his slacks.

"Hey Pete. How's it going?" He asked with a smile.

"Good, Mr. Delmar. Just gonna finish up the stocking of the store, and then I'll make sure to start the inventory you wanted me to do back here. I noticed we're out of a few things already, I put the list on your desk in your office."

"Great, kid. You do such a good job for me. How's your Aunt?" He asked, but without the typical sly grin on his face. He met her once when she had given permission for him to work here after school right before she died. It was kind of a running joke between them, that he knew Mr. Delmar had a borderline crush on the married woman. It had been so hard to hear her mentioned so casually since her death. Same as when he ran across someone who knew Uncle Ben.

Peter turned away from him, starting to open another box. He's always been a horrible liar, especially if he's looking right at someone. "Oh, you know. Same, pretty much." He never told Mr. Delmar what happened- he'd most certainly start asking questions, and while he would always be willing to help him out, he doubted he'd not try and 'help' the poor runaway kid by calling social services.

"Yeah, kid, okay." There was a pause. "Hey, someone asked about you earlier today. They wanted to know if you still worked here." Now Peter knew something was up. Mr. Delmar was trying to sound way to casual.

"Oh? Friend from school or something?" Peter asked hopefully. He did occasionally see kids from his public school come in.

"Maybe. He was your age, maybe a little older. Just said he'd catch up with you later. Didn't want to leave a message. Didn't buy anything from the store, either."

Peter thought Mr. Delmar sounded suspicious. "Ah, I'm sorry Mr. Delmar. I'll tell my friends to stay away from here. I promise they won't be a bother anymore." Peter had no idea who they could be though. Definitely didn't sound like Charlie, and while some of the kids occasionally came here, or might have seen him come here, he could think of no one that would want to see him.

Waving his concerns away, Mr. Delmar replied, "Don't worry about it. He wasn't a bother. But Pete," he said hesitantly, "maybe an hour later another person asked the same thing. Big guy, tattoos and much older. He came and said he was an old friend of your Uncle, and was just trying to track you down."

Peter started to sweat a bit, and felt a bit nauseous. He knew it was Charlie, and knew things were not going to end well with this. "Wha-what'd you say?" He asked. He kept trying to look out towards the store past Mr. Delmar, but could only see the hallway. What if Charlie was out there now? What if Mr. Delmar told him when he'd be working?

Mr. Delmar frowned, and he put his hands out. "Easy, kid. I didn't want to tell him anything without your permission. I asked him to contact your Aunt if he wanted to get in touch with an underage kid." Mr. Delmar stared him down. "Do you want to guess what he told me?"

Peter wrapped his arms around himself and looked down at the floor. He couldn't look at Mr. Delmar anymore. He'd lied to him for months. A lie of omission, but a big one and a lie all the same.

"Peter, what happened?" Mr. Delmar asked softly. "Come on, kid. You can tell me. He said your Aunt died? What's going on with you?"

Nodding, Peter opened his mouth to explain, but nothing came out. He felt himself starting to tear up, and rubbed his eyes to get rid of the feeling.

"Ah, Peter," Mr. Delmar said sadly. "Please tell me you aren't sleeping rough."

"You don't know what foster care is like!" Peter found himself blurting. "I'm fine as I am. Please don't tell him where I am!" He was shaking. It was all falling apart. He had no idea why Charlie was looking so hard for him now. He was usually alright with all the street kids and homeless people, didn't push. Why was he getting on Peter's case so bad? He was ruining everything.

Mr. Delmar shook his head. "I didn't Peter, at least not directly, but he knows you work here. He said he was going to stop by later, but I persuaded him to try back tomorrow instead by saying you weren't working today. I wanted to talk to you first. Kid, I know foster care isn't… ideal. I'm not naive. But you can't sleep out on the streets! I can only get you the few hours and crappy pay you get now, and that averages out to what, $60 a week? That can't be enough to survive on, and you can't get another job without parental approval. You need help, and he explained he could help you," He said beseechingly.

Peter had only listened up to the second sentence. Charlie knew he came here often. Charlie would be here tomorrow. Even if Peter skipped that day, Charlie was not the type to give up.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Delmar, I've got to go." Peter grabbed his rain jacket he had brought just in case, and tried to push past him. Mr Delmar stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Just wait, Pete. At least let me pack up some food and get you your pay out of my wallet, okay? And listen to me. I understand if you don't want to come back soon with that guy looking for you. I know I might not know your full situation. But come back sometime next week, so we can really talk, okay? I don't want you dropping off the face of the earth on me. You can come whenever you want so you know I haven't set you up, but please do that for me."

Peter reluctantly nodded. Mr. Delmar patted his shoulder and went back to the front of the store. What was he going to do? He was barely surviving with Mr. Delmar's help. Now he'd have to stay away.

He had to go to Charlie- but on his terms. Maybe if he talked to him, he could see what he wanted, convince him he was better off away from the system.

It was the only option he had.

Tony found that catching up with the spider guy was harder than he had thought it would be. The guy had only been out about four times this past week since Charlie had told him he might be a good resource, and they were all too quick for him to get to him before he disappeared again. He was sure it had something to do with the rain, but it was frustrating.

Maybe if he rigged up a spider signal, he thought to himself sarcastically.

Swirling the drink in his hand, he stared down into the glowing city so far below. He was glad he hadn't yet sold the tower, otherwise this month would have been a bit more uncomfortable, having to live out of the old mansion. He never liked that place, it was always wrapped up in memories of his parents, both good and would probably head back to the compound as soon as he actually got hold of the ellusive vigilante. He'd gave Charlie a bit of spending money and a picture to send spies out into the homeless community to try to find the kid. Nothing had turned up yet, though.

Feeling restless, he contemplated heading down to into the city. Normally, he stuck to Manhattan on the rare occasions he went out without a purpose, but he had found himself wandering around Queens a few times the first few weeks of the search. He told himself it had nothing to do with the kid, but even he had his limits of denial. The kid, as much as various data had told him about him (sky high IQ and GPA, interest in chemistry from electives he'd chosen, Star Wars nerd from the few social media posts he'd made before they went silent at his Aunt and Uncle's deaths), was a complete mystery. He was trying to find something new to learn about the kid. Even if he doesn't really have an interest in keeping the kid, Tony always wants more data about any problem he was working on. Deprived of the object, location was his next option.

He was startled out of this thoughts by the phone ringing, answering when he saw the caller ID. "Hey Charlie, how's the peanut gang?" He answered flippantly. Charlie had called about every other day, letting him know about things he had done to find Peter.

Charlie chuckled. "Hey, Mr. Stark. Sorry for calling so late, my daughter was ill and had a rough evening."

"No worries. I wasn't actually expecting you to call tonight since I heard from you last night. I appreciate all you're doing, I don't want you taking time away from your family when there's nothing to update me about," Tony replied, really thinking that he'd rather not _his_ time be taken up.

"Actually, I may have something. Well, I definitely have something, just not sure it'll lead me directly to Peter," Charlie replied.

Tony sucked in a breath. "Alright, hit me with it."

"One of the kids recognized the picture I showed him. He went out to talk with some others and found out he helps out sometimes at a local deli, so the kid went in and confirmed he still did. When he called me, I followed up, but got caught out by the owner. I got the feeling he was looking out for the kid, but I don't think he knew about the Parkers' deaths. The news really rocked him. The guy said he'd be in tomorrow, but I wouldn't be surprised if Peter gets tipped off before then. I'll go anyway and check."

"Okay," Tony breathed. Finally, some movement on the 'find the kid' front. "That'll give me something to start with at least." He would have Friday re-check the cameras in the area, see if he can get any kind of indication on where the kid is staying.

"Did you get in touch with Spider-Man yet?" Charlie asked.

"Not yet. He's not been around much," Tony said regretfully. On top of hoping to ask if he knew Peter, he was also hoping to find out if those webs he has (had? Hasn't been seen with them recently, for some reason) were made or… naturally occuring with the guy's obvious other enhancements.

Tony shuddered at the thought. Gross.

"I may be able to help you out there, as well. I'll just tell everyone that if they see Spider-Man, to ask him to meet Iron-Man at, say, 11pm on Saturday night. That you just need some help. Maybe on the roof of St. John's hospital?" Charlie asks. "It'll give us a week, and it's a decent bet someone in my network will run into him before then, either as victim or perpetrator."

Tony thinks. "Yeah, that's actually a great idea. I have to fly to D.C. for a couple of days this week, so I can't keep hanging around waiting for my chance to approach him. Thanks, Charlie. I can't tell you how much you've made my life easier."

"Yeah, no problem. I can't help these kids as much as I want to, sometimes. I'm hoping Peter will be the exception. I've got to get back to my wife now, I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"Sounds good," Tony replies. "Thanks again. Bye Charlie."

Tony hangs up, for once hopeful that at least one of two mysterious persons will be within his sight at the end of the week.

'It's like everyone is making up for last week,' Peter thought exasperatedly. It's cleared up completely now from the rain storms of last week, and bad guys are out in full force tonight. He's stopped three muggings, two breaking and enterings, one armed robbery of a bodega and one carjacking.

He was out for a long time last night, Monday, as well. On days like these, especially if they are in a row, he burns through energy ridiculously fast. He's burned through the last of his money from Delmar's today to buy himself food, as he hadn't gone back since he was forced to leave on Saturday. He waited across the street on Sunday, just to see if he could spot Charlie and glean any information on what he's looking for him for. He saw him come and go, and followed him back to wear he guessed Charlie worked. He hasn't gotten up the courage to confront him yet.

Peter still has no idea why Charlie is looking for him all of the sudden. Charlie doesn't usually chase the runaway kids- he's smart enough to know that if they run from a case worker they won't willingly go back into the system, so it's better to earn their trust and help in small ways- bit of food here, some change there, a heavy coat, maybe. The shelters and food kitchens are places runaways generally know to stay away from- they are mandatory reporters and often have police around them anyway. Peter got away with it in the beginning only until people realized his Uncle had died and he wasn't just visiting.

Peter heard a crash from down the road, and ran to investigate. He found a car wreck, and helped move one of the drivers to the side of the road as he was in a bit of shock. The passenger was fine, so he went to the other car and checked on that driver. He was fine, on his cell phone to the police, so Peter left him to it.

The crash had drawn a bit of a crowd, though most people were looking at him. He always felt a bit self conscious; he knew how his outfit looked- dirty, stained sweats, hoodie, and a badly sewn mask, along with obviously home modified goggles. He had been in the process of making a voice modifier when he had to leave home, but never got it finished. He hadn't been taken seriously several times due to his voice and hoped to change that. But he'd never be able to have tech like Iron Man, or even just an actual uniform like Captain America. He was a down market hero and at times like this he felt it.

He heard the sirens of the police and started his jog toward the corner to leave the scene.

"Hey, Spider-dude!"

Peter turned around to see a woman jogging up to him. She looked a little rough; skin weathered, hair not well taken care of; and was carrying a rucksack- he saw she had necklaces in her hand. She was obviously one of those who sold street wares for cash.

She was out of breath when she caught up to him. "Hey, man. I have a message for you!" She said when she caught her breath enough to get the words out.

Warily, Peter looked around the area, for what he doesn't know but he was suddenly suspicious. The cops, especially, had been trying to nab him for vigilantism, and had gotten close a few times since he couldn't web away.

"I guess Iron Man needs your help or something. He wants to meet you."

Peter felt his eyes widen. He had heard the sound of Iron Man's repulsors a few times last week, always after he'd been out as Spider-Man. He'd thought he was being paranoid.

"What for?" Peter blurted out, shocked. He was thinking it was more likely that Iron Man was wanting to arrest him. Why else would Iron Man himself be looking for him?

Part of Peter thought it'd be worth it to be arrested by Iron Man, just so he could meet him. He shook his head to clear it.

The lady seemed to be trying to figure out how to make eye contact through the goggles, but shrugged at his question. "Dunno. Just heard it from a bunch of people, guess he got the word out. 11pm Saturday, St. Johns' roof. You tell him Lacey Gilbert told you, maybe there's some money in that!" She said eagerly.

Right then the cops pulled up to the accident still in sight down the road. She looked back, seemed to startle, and hissed her name again before hurriedly heading around the corner.

Peter stared after her for a second, wondering what the hell that was. Was Iron Man really looking for him? Why? She said he needed his help, but Peter seriously doubted that. What could Spider-Man do to help Iron Man? Or Tony Stark, even? This made no sense.

He began walking dazedly.

Should he go to the meet? It could be a trap. And while the fan boy inside of him says it would _totally be worth it_ to meet Iron Man, he knew being 15 wouldn't matter; he'd go to jail for his vigilantism. Maybe he'd get probation, but it'd definitely be inside the social services system, God knows where or with whom, and he wouldn't be able to continue the only thing keeping him sane at this point.

But what if it wasn't a trap? What if he really needed help? He couldn't imagine any scenario that would be probable. But if he didn't go, and Stark had needed help…

Ugh. He'd have to think on this. In the meantime, he might as well handle Charlie and that issue tomorrow so he'd know where he stood on that. With all of this on his mind, he headed to his current bolt hole, ready for some sleep. At least he'd have something else to obsess about besides his rumbling stomach…

Peter slept hard into the next morning, Wednesday, and woke up _ravenous._ He was out of money, and had to go beg which he hated, to get a couple dollars in change. It was enough to buy some jerky and a hard boiled egg from the corner store, trying to go for protein. Tonight he could spend some time behind some restaurants, and grab some of the stuff they threw out when they closed. He hated it as it was usually mixed in with trash and all mixed together, which made his enhanced senses go crazy. A lot of times the second he put it in his mouth he threw up anyway from the mix of smells and tastes but he was out of options.

Outside of the restaurant he had seen Charlie work at a couple days ago, Peter tried to be as incognito as possible. The restaurant, an italian place called SoleLuna, was in the middle of the block, so he just hung around the corner on the opposite side. The roofs in this area were all occupied or slanted, so that was a no go. The restaurant had opened at 10am, so he had probably missed him going into work. Now he was hoping to catch him on his way out, either for a break or to head home.

He stood there for hours, figuring he got there about noon, and it was approaching 4pm. He eventually got tired of making a show of it, walking back and forth to the corner, or pretending like he was waiting for someone. He got weird looks either way, so he ended up just leaning against the corner.

He fell asleep standing up. Not quite sure how that works, he'll think later.

Sounds filter in. Peter's used to having to ignore a bunch of sound due to his enhanced senses, and his brain has gotten good at bringing attention to things he needs to notice.

Like the sound of Charlie's voice on the phone. "Corner of Queens Boulevard and 40th. Yeah. Not sure what he'd react to better, if I'm honest. He knows me, but he thinks I've burnt him once before. I think if you were the one to wake him up, or if you were here, he might be less likely to bolt on us. Are you still in- shit. Okay. Let me see if-"

Peter cracks his eyes open, just a little, but Charlie is staring right at him, not more than five feet away, and notices immediately. He gets out an "I gotta go" before he hangs up the phone, and holds his hand out towards Peter consolingly.

"Hey, kid. Nice to see you again." Peter takes a step backward automatically. "Hey!" Charlie says urgently. "I just want to talk, Peter. That's it. You came to me, I think, right? That's why you're out here, where I work? Probably want to know why I've been looking for you."

Charlie takes a step forward, but stops when Peter takes two steps back. Disoriented, Peter's senses are going a bit haywire, and he can't think straight. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, but he's kind of foggy on how it was supposed to go down anyway. He just knows that he does want answers, so he nods.

Perhaps sensing Peter's disorientation, Charlie nods back, smiles at him, and doesn't move. "Looking a bit skinnier since I saw you last. You doing okay there, Peter?"

Peter's brain is slowly coming back online, so he knows the comment and question is either a distraction or a stall. He clears his throat. "Why have you been looking?"

Charlie chuckles disarmingly, though Peter can tell it's at least partly to try to put him at ease. "Ah, Pete. I was just concerned. Look, I know how it is, alright? I know that sometimes the street is better than the foster system. Now, I don't think that's necessarily the case for you- you should be getting ready for school here, not in the street. You're too smart for that- and such a good kid, I'm sure plenty of good families will want you. But I get it- I promise I won't involve a social worker unless you give the okay. I promise Peter." Charlie stopped then and studied him. "Can we sit down and talk a bit? I want to check in with you, see where you're at."

Paranoia has also come into focus along with everything else in Peter's brain. He narrows his eyes. "Then who was that on the phone? Come on, Charlie. You let every other kid slide past you when you know they've had… difficulties in care. Why not me? I appreciate you want to help, but you're not! I lost a decent job, and you know I'll likely have trouble finding someone else who will hire me, since it has to be under the table." Peter feels his voice choke out into nothing, and has to breathe deep to gain back control.

Charlie's words gain a sense of urgency. "But Peter, you ain't every other kid! You're way too smart for the streets. And I wasn't calling social services. Pete, you've got someone very powerful on your side! A friend of your Mom heard about what happened to them, then about what happened to you. I'm think they'll help you. I would help you hide myself if I didn't think this could be the exact thing you need right now."

Peter froze when his Mom was mentioned, then scoffed. "A friend of my Mom's? Charlie, I barely even remember my Mom. I seriously doubt someone would come forward now, when they hadn't before, to be some kind of benefactor. I think they're playing you." Peter rubbed at his eyes harshly, feeling near the end of his rope.

Peter has long since come to terms with the world as it is. Orphans don't end up with happy endings. He got lucky when May said yes to raising him last time, but even that took time. There was no rich relative from a far off land to come claim him, no millionaire who would fall for his cutesy charms and take him in. He thought he was safe with Ben and May. He should have remembered how easily it was all wiped away.

"Oh, kid." Charlie looked as distraught as Peter felt right then. He'd somehow gotten close enough to put a hand on his shoulder, and it was a bit of a grip as well. "You've been through the wars, I know. But listen, I trust this guy, okay? Do you think I'd tell him where you were at if I didn't? Come on, kid. If he tries anything, if he ain't good for you, I'll deal with him myself."

Peter shook his head. He noticed his breath had picked up substantially, and he was nauseous. He needed to get away. Now. "Not right now. Maybe later, I don't know. I gotta go, Charlie." Ripping out of Charlie's grip on his shoulder, he started walking backwards down the street. He needed to be sure Charlie wasn't going to chase him, but he felt like if he tried to run he'd pass out.

Taking a couple steps forward, Charlie's eyes were filled with panic. He reached his hand out, then seemed to catch himself and put his palm up. "Peter, just meet with him. You'll like him, I promise! Peter!"

Peter shook his head, and having enough space between them turned around to jog away. He needs to think on this. Mom's friend? She certainly never had people over, but left with Dad a lot on work trips. If he ever met any friend, he was too young to remember. They pretty much stuck with just Ben and May.

"Peter! It's Tony Stark!" Charlie called out from behind him.

Peter stopped and turned back around to him, but couldn't think of anything to say. Seriously? Bullshit. Charlie knew how big of a fanboy he was of the guy, was he that desperate for him to meet this friend that he'd lie?

Except he was in town. People had even seen him around Queens, according to gossip in Delmar's that he overheard.

He wanted to meet with Spider-Man.

Oh God. Did he know his identity? Made up this story about being friends with his Mom? Was he really not looking for Peter Parker, but knew they were one in the same?

He couldn't hear anything but his heart beating staccato in his chest. It felt like a heart attack. He looked back up in panic, and Charlie's mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear him. He was approaching again, palms up, trying to calm him. His eyes were worried.

Peter's body responded instinctively to all this- he turned and ran.


End file.
